A broken stereotype
by ShadowBYeBYe
Summary: Ever wonder if there happen to be more to a character then what the show led us to believe. Perhaps an inner turmoil that just wouldn't go away.


**I was feeling the need to write something dark, and my current original wasn't at the moment for darkness. I love to warp a character especially if there is a possibility that there is more to them than meets the eye. I hope you enjoy the extremely warped explanation of this character.**

**Yuck factor: 5 out of 10 for very mild gore descriptions.**

**!!Warning!! This story does contain character death via suicide. I do NOT condone nor do I encourage this type of reaction for anyone in any situation. **

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His body jolted slightly as the poisons began to work their way through his veins. No one wanted him alive anyway. He closed his eye and listened to his ears pop and ring. Too many times had he been called a loser. Too many times he had been used for one reason or the other. Never could he be good enough. Never would he be the person that everyone wanted, or thought, that he should be. Why then did it matter? Why couldn't he just except who he was and go on with his life? That was an easier question to answer than it should have been. He was nobody. His life revolved around what people saw him as. He was nothing but a shell, and how is it that he could lay back and accept being a shell.

His hand clenched and unclenched as the muscles started to spasm in his lower arms. The burning sensation in his throat and chest let him know that his time was coming. Life was cruel to him. He had gotten everything he wanted, they would say once he was gone. Life was easy for him. No. They knew nothing of his life. They knew nothing of him. He didn't get what he wanted because he was never believed when he conveyed what he wanted.

A hacking cough sent him falling over to the floor. A bark escaped his mouth as his last meal tried to rip from his stomach. He thought he had chosen the quickest and easiest way out. He was wrong. He thought he would just curl up go to sleep and drift off peacefully, but now his entire body felt as if it were going to explode. He clawed at the ground as tears flowed from his eyes. Life wasn't worth living. He could have anything he wanted as long as it set well with the eyes of society. Why couldn't he live his life the way he wanted to? Why was he burden to carry the stereotype with him? He had tried to get rid of his burden but the self inflicted scars only seemed to make things worse. He was seen as rugged and tough, a hint of danger, and a flair of mystery. He was still beautiful. The longing to be normal was enough to make him sick, had he not already been spilling the last bits of bile from his stomach.

Another attack of coughs sent blood spilling up out of his mouth as his lungs started to shred in his chest. The thumping in his chest grew more erratic by the moment to the point of a dizzying agony. He forced himself to sit up as he attempted to still his coughing long enough. His intense blue eyes focused on the ceiling above his head as he pulled a small crumpled letter from his pocket. His head rolled forward and he let his eyes roam over his bare skin. Perfection to some but a physical hell to him. He would never be able to survive in the world if he managed to create his own persona. He was accepted as he was and revered for that same purpose. If her were to create a rift in their seen perfection his life would be taken for callousness any way. He didn't want to live through that suffering. He didn't want to spend another day watching the object of his affection wrapped in the arms of another, knowing that even if his feelings were known, that they would be rejected and never returned.

A chill ran over his skin causing his hair to stand on end. The jolts and spasms of his body grew stronger as his heart pumped those last desperate beats. With a final gasping breath, his body fell to the side, as a single stream of blood ran from his nose.

Hours later his body was found. The investigators removed a single crumpled letter from the handsome boy's hand. Inside a short goodbye along with an explanation to his parents was all that was wrote.

_The world is an extremely cruel and unjust place. I have always been seen as an object of desire and a being of almost impossible physical beauty. Never has anyone expected me to excel in the scholastics department nor in linguistics for which I have a passion. Not a single person, including my parents and teachers. _

_While I admire the fact that people looked upon me with unbridled awe, I am ashamed that my appearance has caused those around me to refuse to see me as a person rather than just an object to be gazed upon. I have never admitted to anyone my own fears or fascinations. I was seen as an arrogant and ignorant playboy, rather than the intellectual conversationalist that I am. Nor had anyone ever asked of my non-existent relationship with the fairer sex. It would seem that I was set, as most men would wish to be, to have any woman that my heart desired. _

_Through futile attempts and pure cowardice, I was unable to explain to my parents and those around me that my fancies lay not in the dangerous curves of the opposite sex, but with the more firm and touchable figures of those like myself. My preference in companions is not a flaw built out of narcissism or even a repulsion of women, but more over a feeling of contentment. _

_As I know that my feelings would have never been returned by that blue-eyed loki of an adonis, I also know that the mere mention of his name in this letter will result in a tarnishing of his reputation and the dissolution of his relationship with his current partner. I will go on to face the after life with my head hung in shame as I was not near as strong as I wished I could have been. _

_I was not able to show my true self nor was I able to make others see past my astonishing appearance to the crying lonesome soul that coward inside of me. Know this, that while I did take pride in my looks, I know longer wish to be know as the 'sexy guy' or the 'hunk'. I wish to be remembered as Justin. And if people need a further explanation of my choice to end my life suddenly and with forethought, look into those around you. See those that are reaching for the light silently, but no one gives notice to. _

_I apologize that I was not a capable person, and for leaving grieving parents to bury their son. _

_Forgive me. _


End file.
